Usually
by cw151
Summary: Natasha's behavior is very unusual, and Clint can't quite figure out why.


**Usually**

Usually they didn't do this. Having been trained to always be alert, to never be caught off guard, being drunk wasn't what Clint and Natasha usually did. But this was Vegas, and they had just come off a mission neither of them thought they'd survive. Coulson had told them to take some time off, and both Natasha and Clint had decided to follow his advice for once. They were young, and hell yes, they were alive. Who cared about tomorrow.

Which is how they found themselves staggering down the strip in the whee hours of the morning.

"I'm hungry!" Natasha complained for the umpteenth time.

"So am I, sweetheart, so am I," Clint replied as he used their linked arms to steady himself.

"Don't call me that. I'm not one of your … _base_ girls," Natasha replied, trying to keep her words together. "And there's a diner over there."

She miraculously (or through meticulous training?) managed to avoid any cars as she pulled her partner across the street to a brightly lit diner.

"My base girls?" Clint asked as he pulled the door of the diner open and let Natasha pass first. "What's that?"

"You know what I mean." Natasha said, her voice low. Did Clint detect a hint of disgust in her words? "Blonde, pretty, new to SHIELD, usually. Or not new, but working in med bay," Natasha continued as she dropped on the bench of one of the booths by the wall.

Clint slipped onto the bench opposite her.

"Nope, don't know what you're talking about," he said as he watched her grab and unfold a menu from the holder on the side of the table.

Natasha lowered the menu to stare him straight in the eyes.

"Oh really. _Hello, sweetheart! Thank you, sweetheart! You're welcome, darlin'! Anytime, luv!_" Her voice had dropped even further and Clint had to admit that she sounded very much like him.

He raised his eyebrows.

"So you're annoyed by my vocabulary?" he replied, snorting.

"Yes." Natasha replied, turning her attention back to the menu in front of her.

Clint was confused. Natasha seemed dead serious. Taking offense in something as trivial as his choice of vocabulary was very unlike her, however. Usually, Natasha couldn't care less what others did or said, unless it influenced her mission. If someone annoyed her off the field, she certainly wouldn't waste any energy on an angry or reprimanding reaction. Usually, she just left. Or ignored it. Which was probably why everyone else at base continued to be scared of her – they just couldn't read Natasha and interpreted anything she did as driven by aggression when really, she didn't even care.

Clint reached for his own menu, glanced over it, and made his choice. Natasha was just putting her menu down as well.

Their eyes locked and they silently stared at each other, not even stopping when the waitress came to take their order.

"Welcome to Betty's Diner, my name is Linda. What can I get you two today?" she asked.

Natasha gauged Linda from the corner of her eye. Mid-forties, tanned, turquoise uniform and curly hair.

"I'll have the avocado and bacon burger with a side of fries. No coleslaw. And a coke. No ice." Natasha ordered, still staring at Clint. It almost seemed as if she was daring him to - Clint wasn't sure what exactly.

The waitress nodded and jotted the order on to her pad before turning to Clint.

"The trucker skillet with a side of fried potatoes. And a water," he said, also still staring straight ahead at Natasha.

"That's going to be fifteen minutes," Linda replied as she turned around and walked back to the kitchen.

Natasha was the first to break eye contact. She unceremoniously dropped back against the high back of her seat whilst picking at the corners of the menu, her hands on the table. Clint followed suit and also leaned against the back of his seat as he watched her pull at the menu. She seemed lost in thought. It had been twelve months since they'd been partnered, but Clint still had trouble figuring Natasha out. Usually, and particularly during missions, Natasha was the easiest person to work with. She did things straight, she was thorough. She addressed any issues or disagreements directly. Usually, talking to Natasha was really easy.

Not tonight, though. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Natasha didn't entirely seem like herself to Clint. She was… different.

Clint decided to pick up where they'd left off.

"So, my vocabulary. Anything else you want me to stop using besides endearments?" he asked, his tone half-mocking.

Natasha's eyes found his again in another serious stare.

"No, just those," she said, suddenly nonchalant. "But that'd be hard enough if you want to continue flirting with your base-girls."

She raised one eyebrow at him and then swept the room with a quick look. Even in her drunken state the fundamentals remained in place. Fortunately, there was only one lone, old guy in the restaurant besides them. He was hunched on a bar stool, nursing a piece of pumpkin pie and seemed completely lost in himself.

"_If _I want to continue flirting with the base girls?" Clint repeated. "Oh, I will. It's fun. They can be really cute. And they're a good distraction in between jobs. You should try it sometime, too." He grinned.

Natasha's eyebrow rose even higher.

"You mean I'm supposed to hit on some base-girls?" she said.

"Yeah, or base-boys. Whatever you fancy," Clint's grin got even wider. "It can be really fun to be in love."

Suddenly, Natasha's eyes got hard.

"Love is for children," she said sharply.

Now it was Clint's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Nah, you don't mean that," he said, half-amused.

Natasha maintained her icy glare for a second but quickly caved. Another thing that usually never happened.

"No, I don't. But the kind of love you talk about is for children," she replied. Her gaze grazed his and then wandered through the room.

"Constantly falling in and out of love, this week one girl, next week another, and next month three more. That's not love," she stated.

Clint blinked. This was turning into one of the most personal conversations he ever had with Natasha.

"What's love, then?" he asked, keeping his eyes carefully trained on her.

"Complete, self-less devotion. Loyalty. Faithfulness. Commitment." Natasha said shortly, still looking anywhere but at him.

"Alright... And you know this from experience?" Clint hedged.

Finally, Natasha's eyes found his again.

"Yes," she stated matter-of-factly. There it was again. That expression in her eyes, daring him to do – _something. _Clint still had no idea what she wanted. And it seemed that Natasha, too, realized, that Clint had no clue. She gave him the stare-equivalent of an exasperated sigh and let her eyes wander around the room once again.

"Do I know him? Her?" Clint asked.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and threw him a sideways glance.

"_Him_," she said. "And no, you don't know him. It was a long time ago."

Clint nodded slowly. He picked up a packet of pepper from the container in the middle of the table and started picking at it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

Natasha's eyes found his again.

"No," she said candidly. Clint nodded once more. He still had no idea what Natasha meant with all of what she was saying. Maybe he was just too drunk. Or maybe she was too drunk and didn't even know herself what she was saying. So Clint resolved to playing with the pepper packet again.

They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, even as Linda brought them their drinks and later their food. They dug in wordlessly, but comfortably. Usually, Clint had no problem spending long periods of time in complete silence with Natasha, and this time, it was fortunately no different. After all the unusual behavior he'd seen in Natasha today, she seemed to be herself in this regard at least.

After they'd finished and paid, they made their way back to their hotel, still barely talking. They picked up a few bottles of water at the hotel's gift shop. When they entered the elevator, Clint glanced at his watch.

"Sun should be up soon," he said.

Natasha just nodded and pressed the bottom to the top floor. They snuck through the fire escape on to the roof, just in time to see the sun's first rays crawling across the horizon.

Clint found a wide edge where they could both sit relatively comfortably. He let his legs dangle as he slowly sipped his water. Natasha, on the other hand, had pulled her knees up and rested her chin on top of them. Both of them simply watched the rising sun.

"I'm glad we're alive," Natasha said, in her usual, earnest manner.

"Me too," Clint replied.


End file.
